Coach's Formula, The

Tabula Rosa II.


By Shade

Later that night, the same Saturday, around 9:00pm

“Oh, man,” said Brandon, as he and Mark left the shower, “I ain’t never done anything like that before.”

Mark assessed Brandon from a distance. Except for the fact that he’d just sucked off a guy who’d just broken world records in every lift, it had been like any other normal night at the gym. And they could be any other gym rats in the world, and perfectly straight. But Mark was having trouble keeping his eyes off Brandon. The movement of Brandon’s body and the play of the lights along his muscles as they moved was almost hypnotic.

“Dude,” Mark replied, almost in an effort to reaffirm it for himself, “I like chicks. I don’t know what happened back there.”

Brandon stood there with a towel wrapped round his waist. He made a muscle with his right arm, and Mark thought he’d go weak in the knees. It was a huge, perfectly defined ball of steel fibers. A thing of worship.

“Yeah?” said Brandon, noticing Mark’s reaction, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mark knew at that moment that if Brandon asked him for a sexual favor of any description that he would willingly oblige him. Brandon casually licked his bicep and gave Mark a lascivious grin.

“Dude,” Mark said, “You’re huge. And strong. What I saw back there was unbelievable.”

They were now getting dressed. Mark couldn’t help but feel a touch of envy.

“How big do you want to get?” asked Brandon causally, as if reading his thoughts.

“As big as I can,” Mark said reverently, “As big as you. Bigger even.”

“Well,” said Brandon smugly, “I don’t know about that.” He brought up his other arm then, standing by that point in just his jeans. They look like they had been painted on they were that tight.

“I kinda like being the biggest, baddest fucker around.”

He brought both his arms up then. It was mind numbingly beautiful to see. The way Brandon’s arms mounded up and his chest rippled as he casually moved around. His abs were totally defined.

“I could help you out, ya know,” said Brandon, relaxing his flex for the moment.

Mark looked suddenly hopeful, “How?” he asked.

“I have my ways.”

Brandon went to put on the shirt he’d been wearing earlier, but just when he finally got it over his chest, stretched tight, it’s frail fabrics gave way under the pressure of Brandon’s significantly increased mass. It tore into multiple pieces leaving Brandon standing there big and golden and shredded, his chest like two large slabs and his arms like small bowling balls.

After a moment Mark belatedly realized he’d just creamed his pants.

“I’m in,” he said. •

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